


Homesickness

by Whump-with-wren (Spannah339)



Series: Bad Things Happen [5]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotional Whump, Gen, Homesickness, Whump, clearly i have some more angst in me for him, yes it's five in the apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 05:13:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20791205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spannah339/pseuds/Whump-with-wren





	Homesickness

At first, he took advantage of it. His childhood imagination and excitement hadn’t been fully squashed and after the initial shock of being stuck sunk in, Five adapted almost instantly. 

He was alone - completely and utterly alone. No Hargreeves, no siblings, no rules, no adults, no one and nothing and he could do anything he wanted. The last thirteen years of strict rules and routines cracked and shattered and Five let out a loud whoop. 

He could do whatever he wanted - he could run, and shout, and teleport without anyone telling him to stop. He could throw stones and climb rubble and run wild and no one would try to call him back. He could stay up as late as he wanted, could do whatever he please, could be whoever he wanted. 

He spent the evening wandering, bounding over piles of rubble, throwing stones, making general chaos. The evening fell, and he didn’t sleep. The night added another layer of excitement, and Five dove recklessly into the darkness. He scraped his knee and ripped the elbow of his jacket, but he didn’t care - it was part of the adventure. He hadn’t been allowed an adventure for years - fighting bad guys with his sibling didn’t count. That was normal. This was new. This was exciting. He couldn’t wait to tell them about it.

Stubbornly, he refused to sleep. This might be his only chance to stay up all night, and he wasn’t about to waste it. He continued adventuring, stepping into rundown buildings, finding a quick meal of canned food that he broke into. He peered into buildings, under rubble, finding new beauties in the ruined world, finding adventures. 

Vanya would love to hear about the small flower that persisted despite everything around it being destroyed. Klaus would crack up when he heard about the rude graffiti that had survived the end of the world. Ben would hide a small smile when Five told him about the library that still sheltered a large collection of mostly intact books. Diego would tell him off for not bringing back the crude knife he made to get into the can. Allison would love to hear about the future fashion he found that had survived in a store. Luther… Luther would probably tell him off for not coming right back, but Five didn’t really care about that. 

(He still thought of Luther when he saw stars, spread high above him in a glorious display, more beautiful than anything he had seen before. He hadn’t even begun to imagine there were _so many_ stars.) 

He clambered to the top of the highest pile of rubble he could find as the sun began to rise again. Yawning, he watched it slowly spread light across the world, waking everything up. 

Except - except there was nothing _to _wake up. Something changed as Five watched the sun slowly creep over the horizon. 

The rubble extended forever. As far as he could see, the sun was lighting up a ruined and broken world. There was nothing living - no bird song, no trees, no people, no animals. Five suddenly felt very alone. 

He stood, turning and looking back. Again, there was nothing. Nothing but rubble and broken buildings, broken lives. He was alone - completely and utterly alone. 

He took a shaky breath, the impact of where he was sinking in all at once. He was alone. There was no one else, nothing else, not a single living soul as far as he could see. It filled him with dread, and the sudden excitement of being alone was replaced with fear. 

Looking down, he tried to teleport again. Tried to reverse what he had done - he wanted to go home. What was the point of being here if he couldn’t tell his siblings about it? What was the point of learning to time travel if he couldn’t prove his father wrong? 

Nothing happened. He tried again, again and again, straining, fear filling him, making him try even harder. With a scream, he pushed with all his strength, trying to force himself back through the years, back to his home, back to his family. 

When it didn’t work, he began to run. He began to scramble down the hill, not caring as he stumbled and scraped himself, not caring as he risked falling on his face. He ran, the deafening silence of the world around him overwhelming. He screamed as he ran, shouting, raging, trying to fill the empty and silent skies. 

He ran and he screamed and he screamed and he ran and finally, he collapsed, falling to his knees as great, sobbing breaths escaping him. Arms wrapped around himself, he sat there for a long time, eyes closed, breathing. 

Finally, he took a deep breath and stood again, still slightly shaky. Maybe this wasn’t the vacation he had first hoped, but that didn’t mean he would be here forever. He had found his way here - he could find his way back again. He just needed to rest, to recover, to regain his strength. Then it would only be a few quick jumps and he would be home again. He could throw this in his father’s face, he could gloat over his siblings, and then everything would go back to normal. 

A plan in place, he began to make a mental list of what he needed. He needed food and water - that was his highest priority. Without food or water, he wouldn’t last long enough to get his strength back. He needed a place to spend the night - the last night had been cold, and if he was going to stay for another night he needed to have some form of shelter. 

Satisfied, he began to explore with much more purpose in his steps. Finding water was surprisingly easy - an old fountain still carried a pool of water in the base, liquid bubbling softly out of the broken pipes. Drinking his fill, Five decided to make a base nearby. 

He spent the whole day gathering supplies. He had no idea how long he was going to be here for, but it shouldn’t be more than a week so he didn’t go far to forage. He returned to the clothing store, picking up a handful of clothes to make a bed with. 

As he was leaving, something caught his eye and he froze. A white face, staring up at him from the rubble around the entrance. Hesitantly, Five knelt, warily reaching out a hand. To his relief, he touched the cold plastic of a manikin. 

A small laugh escaped him as the dread he had felt left him. Stooping, he retrieved her from her prison. She had lost her legs, was only a torso, arms and head. 

“Why don’t you come with me for a bit,” Five said. His voice sounded surprisingly loud in the silence he was becoming used to. As he stopped speaking, the silence became even more deafening, so as he made his way back to his camp, he talked, nonsense, filling the silence.

Despite how tired he was, he didn’t sleep well that night. The dark was too quiet, the ground beneath him too hard, the air around him too cold despite the clothes he had piled on top of him. 

He curled in on himself, squeezing his eyes shut and telling himself not to cry. He’d be home soon. He just needed to sleep, to recover. Tomorrow he would try to zap back in time again. Tomorrow he would see his family again. Tomorrow he could make them all jealous about his trip. 

He fell asleep with one thought circling his mind - _what if he didn’t_?

_What if he couldn’t?_

The next day, he still couldn’t teleport home again, so he set out a little farther, the manikin he had named Deloros the day before tucked under his arm. He found a wagon for her about ten minutes into his exploring and dragged her along behind him, picking up anything he found interesting on the way. 

He was beginning to know the layout of the city. He knew where he had come from - that was near the Academy. The library wasn’t far, and the fountain he was camping by he remembered from home. It was strange, seeing all the familiar sights ruined and broken. 

He wondered what had happened as he walked, looking around at the destruction around him. Had everyone died? Had this affected the whole world, or just this part of it? 

(The question he refused to even let himself think was “did we survive?” He was, after all, only seventeen years in the future.) 

He was growing tired, the midday sun beating down on him when he saw something. A body, eyes closed, covered in rubble. 

Five had seen bodies around before - there were many of them in this ruined world. But he had always stayed away from them, and besides, they had been half charred and unrecognisable. This body was undamaged. 

And looked familiar. 

He refused to believe it until he saw the tattoo on the arm of another man nearby. Shaking, dread flooding his bones, he dropped to his knees, one hand wrapped around the wrist that held his tattoo. A tear ran down his cheek as the implications of his discovery sank in. 

His siblings were here - his siblings were dead. Klaus was the skinny man, coat tight around him and tattoos on his palms. Diego was the man with a scar across his forehead, half-covered in dust. Allison’s hair was messy and tangled, her face still holding a hint of makeup. Luther was the first he had seen, well built and commanding, even in death. 

Vanya and Ben were the only ones not lying in the rubble. Five wanted to believe that was because they were still out there, somewhere. But he knew, deep down, they couldn’t be. If four of his siblings were lying here, dead - there was no hope for the others. 

He didn’t move for a long time, one hand wrapped around the eye Luther had held, one hand wrapped around his wrist. It was that moment, that it all sunk in. That moment that he knew - he _knew_. 

He wasn’t going back. He had stranded himself, isolated himself in this world of ruin and death. He wasn’t going to go home. 

A howl escaped him, caught midway by a sob. He covered his face with his hands, shoulders shaking, tears streaming. He wanted to go home. He wanted to laugh with his siblings. He wanted to feel Grace tuck him in at night. He wanted to go home. 

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed out. “I’m - I’m sorry.” 

He had abandoned his family, and this is what had happened. He had let them down, he had doomed them. 

“I’m sorry! Dad. I’m sorry, I should have listened, I should have listened, I’m sorry. I’m…” 

He broke down, sobbing until he could sob no more, crying for his lost family, for his foolishness, his hubris, crying because he could never go home. Crying because he was doomed to be trapped in this wasteland forever. 

Crying because he was alone - completely and utterly alone. 


End file.
